


Pandemic | Hetalia x Reader

by illumis_cumdumpster



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: America being America (Hetalia), Awkward Germany (Hetalia), Brothers North Italy & South Italy (Hetalia), Chibi Canada (Hetalia), Confused Japan (Hetalia), Cute North Italy (Hetalia), F/F, F/M, Fluff, France Being France (Hetalia), Gen, Happy Spain (Hetalia), Hetalia Countries Using Human Names, Human & Country Names Used (Hetalia), M/M, Poor China (Hetalia), Poor England (Hetalia), Russia has Issues (Hetalia), Tsundere South Italy (Hetalia)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-30
Updated: 2020-11-30
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:16:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27793693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/illumis_cumdumpster/pseuds/illumis_cumdumpster
Summary: Some of your beloved country friends have been suffering from the virus. How will you, as a country, handle it?
Relationships: America (Hetalia)/Reader, Canada (Hetalia)/Reader, China (Hetalia)/Reader, England (Hetalia)/Reader, France (Hetalia)/Reader, Germany (Hetalia)/Reader, Japan (Hetalia)/Reader, North Italy (Hetalia)/Reader, Russia (Hetalia)/Reader, South Italy (Hetalia)/Reader, Spain (Hetalia)/Reader
Comments: 3
Kudos: 30





	1. -The Beginning-

**Author's Note:**

> **WARNING: COVID-19 is the topic/conflict in this story. If you are not comfortable, then I advise you to stop reading this and look for another story. The main purpose of this series is to comfort and bring light. I hope you all understand.**

* * *

The pandemic was worse than you thought it'd be. Many people were suffering, and as a country, you had to do whatever it takes to solve and rebuild everything that has been destroyed just as how you would do to a Jenga tower.

Solving this problem was just as easy as setting up the Jenga tower, except the blocks are shaky and every time you are halfway through the completion, the half-finished tower unreasonably shakes and before you know it, the tower collapses to the floor.

And then you go back to zero.

You've seen your friends hanging on to their sanity as they cry in pain. You've seen them cry over the deaths of many who could've been a great influence on their country for the next years to come. They have lost so many future scientists, doctors, engineers, government employees, teachers, architects and so much more. _The world lost so many of them._

You've seen them hang on to dear life, clutching their chests as they cough and gasp for air—but they must've forgotten; **It is life that is hanging on to them.** Centuries have passed, but she never left their eyes. She was embedded in them like a tattoo.

It was unfair. The fact that you get to live forever and watch the people you love wither and let go of your hand was one thing. But to see them suffer and have their unfulfilled life taken away while you have fulfilled yours and history books was another thing. You wanted to help everyone. But unfortunately, some were not lucky to find your efforts helpful enough.

The virus has walked upon the gardens of the earth, and like a raging storm, destroys many of the flowers. Many are lucky enough to be saved and have the ability to withstand the pandemic. But sometimes, things don't go the way we planned.

But just like the wars and plagues that once occurred many years ago, it'll pass.

The storm has not settled down for now, but it will eventually. The rain has not stopped yet, but there is always a rainbow after it.

_The night has arrived, but rest, for the sun is yet to come._


	2. For You | America

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **WARNING: COVID-19 is the topic/conflict in this story. If you are not comfortable, then I advise you not to read this. The main purpose of this series is to comfort and bring light. I hope you all understand.**

* * *

_"As of now, May 9, 6:50 PM, the United States of America has topped all the nations, having gained 1,322,164 COVID-19 cases, with total deaths counting 78,616 in total."_

Upon hearing the news, you sighed, washing the last piece of eating utensil you used earlier as you picked it from the stainless-steel kitchen sink. "And here I thought this couldn't get any worse." You mumbled to yourself.

Being a country really does has its pros and cons. As the personification of Asmayor, you are one of the lucky island countries with no reported cases of the virus—for now. But that did not stop your boss from closing all air and seaports. She as well implemented free check up's and a few tests here and there every time someone shows even just one symptom of the life-ruining virus. According to your people, life in Asmayor really is a relief and a paradise despite the country being small, with its population being just about 50,000. And since you are Asmayor itself, you could say the same, even when you've roamed every inch of the country for centuries already.

Your country may be small, but hell, it was rich even in terms of natural resources. Asmayor's schools provided good quality  
education, not sending any student's mental and emotional health to a wall broken by a wrecking ball. Inspections were always done in hospitals, restaurants, and fast-food chains to ensure safety and maintain cleanliness. Poverty wasn't much of a problem and crime rates were low, since homeless or 'poor' people were scouted and sent to a free boarding school where they are given free education and a chance to finish high school. Though it wasn't as grand as the private schools, it still shared the same target; to help the learners succeed in the future. Some were gifted enough to be given a scholarship to college, some were not given but took part-time jobs to continue, while the rest were happy enough to be hired for jobs that didn't need a college degree. Nevertheless, their lives did a good 180-degree turn.

Your country wasn't perfect, there may be a few flaws but it did not stop you from giving your people the perfect life they deserve.

Suddenly, your phone chimed, notifying you of a call or text. You wiped your soaked hands with your shirt and picked your phone, accepting the call.

"Hello?" You said.

"Good evening, Asmayor. How are you feeling? Have you used the thermometer already?" Your boss asked.

"Fortunately, I am feeling good. I just used the thermometer and my temperature is 37.6. I am not feeling anything odd in me at all." You replied.

"Good, I apologize for the disturbance. Let me know if you're feeling anything bad, okay? Have a good night." Your boss hung up.

It was necessary to gain information about your health. Because whatever the majority of your people are feeling, you feel it as well. Because the virus will enter your nation, then you are damned. The more the cases increase, the more you suffer and feel more of the symptoms. In a nation's case, it won't be contagious. But it's worse compared to mortals since the intensity depends on the number of cases. Sure, you won't die, but you suffer more.

_Ah, the curse of being a nation._

Although you were feeling good, your best friend wasn't, and you felt bad.

Alfred F. Jones, the personification of the United States of America, the country currently mentioned for having the most number of cases. Ever since you formed an alliance with him when you were younger and new, you've gotten really close and you made sure to help each other out, may it be business-related or personal.

Both of you somewhat depended on each other.

After drying the clean the last plate, you went to the living room and plopped down in the comfortable IKEA couch a certain swede had just bought for you last year for your birthday. You picked up the remote and increased the volume, listening carefully to the blonde news reporter's statements. "Back to you, Becky."

"Thanks, Karen. Up next, Rihanna's supposed ball gown for the Met Gala has been shared by her sty—"

You turned the tv off. Guessing that you probably missed the news about the countries and their cases because of that phone call with your boss, you went to your room. Upon closing the door, you took your laptop and immediately went to one of the social media platforms only the personifications can gain access to lest people find out about your immortality through Facebook and the like due to centuries-long posting of pictures, hoping your American friend was online at the same time.

You typed his country name and clicked his name as soon as it appeared in the suggestion bar. You went to his profile and immediately clicked the message button, and typed him a message.

_"Yo Alfie? Are you up?"_

You clicked enter and then rolled to the side, careful not to hit the 90-degree angled device, anxiously waiting for the blonde ball of sunshine to reply.

After a minute, you heard the sound of the notification bell, informing you of a notification—or maybe a message. You quickly rolled back, your line of vision finally on the screen.

_"Yeah, dudette. Why aren't you asleep yet? Isn't it getting late there?"_

_"I watched the news. More than just a million, Alfie."_

_"Haha! Don't worry about me (Y/N)! A few coughs and stuff here and there, but I can still lift your house if I were there! I'm THE hero after all!"_

_"Oh yeah? I want to see you. Like right now."_

_"Haha uhm it's getting late (Y/N) my laptop is dying too haha!"_

You glanced at the small text below the messages he just sent you.

_Sent through mobile._

_He's lying._

Your brows furrowed, and you felt your chest burning. You were pissed. Alfred never lies. Not even once. Whatever's going on, it wasn't good for him to lie like that. And you wanted to help him.

_"You little shit it literally says 'sent through mobile' below your messages. Don't lie, Jones."_

Feeling suspicious, you typed his country name in the search bar again, but this time, you clicked the name of his counterpart, _Allen F. Jones._

You didn't have problems with the second player. He wasn't really _that_ nice to you, a few childish fights here and there, but you still had moments where you consider him a good friend. There were at least a few times where he randomly barges into your house and there he would rant about his brother or one-night stands that didn't exceed his expectations.

So yeah, you were somewhat pretty good friends, much to Alfred's dismay.

You went to your conversation box with Allen and sent him a message, asking him the same question you did to Alfred.

_"Al, you up?"_

In just a matter of seconds, you have received two replies, both from your American friends. But you decided to stick to Allen for now before ranting at Alfred for lying.

_"Sup, dollface. Miss me? ;)"_

_"You wish. I saw the news, how are you feeling?"_

_"I feel like I'm fucking dying. I feel like shit, (Y/N)."_

If the situation wasn't that serious and life-threatening, you would've laughed at how his mood changed from 100–0 real quick. But it was. And this wasn't something to laugh at.

_"Alright, I'll call u later and check up on you, okay? I'm going to Alfred first, that little chicken just lied to me. See you later."_

_"That annoying porkchop probably just doesn't want ya to worry, but yeah see ya <3."_

You've never done something faster than The Flash, not until you exited your conversation with Allen and went to Alfred. You clicked the video call button and waited for Alfred to accept the call. But he did not accept the request.

_"But (Y/N)!! I'm going to beeed!"_

_"Tsk, you sleep at 4 AM in the morning. Accept the call. I just want to make sure you're alright! Pleaseee!!!"_

You called him for the second time and anxiously waited, your heart beating rapidly.

The phone was ringing for a minute, and despite being apart from him, you could tell he was thinking whether or not to accept the call. Your gut was telling you that things were not going well with him. And you couldn't sleep without making sure he will as well.

The ringing stopped, and there was silence. Two videos were shown on your laptop, the first being his video camera, giving you an idea that he's using his phone. The other was yours, small and placed at the lowest right corner of your screen.

His camera was really close, only showing his forehead and blonde hair. To your surprise, he was really quiet. Alfred has never been this quiet, and this made your suspicion grow more.

_Especially when you heard the sound of beeps coming from what seemed to be a heart rate monitor._

"A-Alfred? Dude?" You stuttered.

"(Y/N)." He quietly muttered after a few seconds of silence.

It was unusual for him to be this quiet. Ever since video calls (or even just regular calls) have been made possible, you always make sure to place the speaker away because by the moment the call is accepted, Alfred would scream out, energetic and all.

You knew his situation, and probably he's suffering. But you didn't expect him to be this silent. This was scaring you, and you didn't like it.

You could hear the shifting and moving of the sheets. And before you knew it, his face was finally shown on the screen.

Your chest tightened and your breath was caught in the back of your throat. Unable to mutter a single word, your fingers touched the screen, tracing his face.

Just below his nose was a nasal cannula, and even with it, you could still hear him occasionally gasping and inhaling more for more oxygen. His skin was paler than before, and his lips were also pale and dry. His hair was disheveled and the bags under his tired eyes were very clear. He'd probably look like a zombie if it weren't for him not looking all bloody. You could tell he was tired.

But he still managed to smile.

"How's my sidekick doing?"

Unable to hold back your tears, you began to cry, quietly at first but then with choking sobs. "You idiot! I should be asking you that!" You wiped your tears away and used your shirt to blow your nose.

"D-Don't cry, (Y/N)! I m-might cry t-too!" He said, but hearing him stutter and have difficulty just made you sob more.

"H-How's everything there?" You managed to ask after calming down a bit.

"I-It's just getting worse, (Y/N). I-I— the graph's r-rising and making small z-zigzags, it's n-not going down. There's no p-progress at all. I-I can't even b-breathe properly e-even with this t-thing—" his rants were cut off as he turned away from the camera and coughed. And he coughed more.

After what seemed like a minute of non-stop coughing and gasping, he finally calmed down and turned to look at you again.

"M-More people are getting i-infected. A-And g-guess what? My boss—he threatened t-to scrap the phase o-one trade d-deal with China! He j-just blamed China, d-dude! A-And China, he f-felt really h-horrible, he was crying w-when we were i-in a phone call e-earlier, that p-poor guy."

"A-Alfred, I'm so sorry," you cried again. "Y-You have no idea how worried I am right now! I-I hate seeing you like this!"

"I-I tried t-to talk him out of it, b-but he wouldn't l-listen! H-he-he's—" the American nation didn't get to finish his sentence and cried.

"I-I'm literally suffering h-here, and m-my people are dying, and h-he's n-not even d-doing— oh god. I-I don't know w-what to d-do anymore!" He sobbed.

His cries were different from his usual ones. His cries were usually loud, dramatic, and childlike, like a spoiled son whose mom didn't purchase him his favorite toy car. But this one was an oddity. His cries sounded so helpless—so _broken_ , as if he lost someone so dear to him. And it killed you to see him like that. Not only was he suffering all the symptoms worse than the mortals— it was multiplied, and he was also suffering problems that were related to his government.

"A-And not to mention! T-the protesters! L-lots of them, dude! They d-demanded lifting the r-restrictions, they s-said they n-need a h-haircut, they n-need to w-walk their dog, and that the g-government is n-non essential! A-And I swear I-I saw this g-guy on tv w-wearing a mask h-h-holding a b-banner that s-says the v-virus is a j-joke!"

You wiped your tears and buried your face in your palms, not wanting to show him your eyes clouded with sympathy. You knew he hates it when people look at him like that because he thinks they find him pathetic and helpless.

"I-It's embarrassing, (Y/N). I-I've always thought I-I was the h-hero. I thought I c-could stop this v-virus! But then, I-I woke up a-and s-suddenly f-felt like c-crap! A-and here I a-m, the country w-with the most number of c-cases! I-I just want to die, (Y/N)! I can't b-bring myself t-to attend m-more w-world meetings! I-I want to b-be r-replaced, i-if that's e-even possible! I-I'm gonna a-ask B-Britain if that's possible. G-God, I-I'm a f-failure!"

Your chest stung upon hearing this. This was the first time he ever felt really bad. Sure, you had seen him getting upset and depressed, but this was different. Thousands— _millions_ were dying; and the selfishness and stupidity of some of his people (and even of the other nations) have been exposed all thanks to this pandemic.

"N-no, Alfred. You are not a failure. Everyone is suffering, but I know you can do this. You are the United States of America after all! A-And you don't need to be replaced, Alfie. I'd be damned if I won't have my hero by my side any longer. I-I'm so sorry you have to through this. I-If only I could do something to help you," you sighed.

"T-there is o-one thing y-you can do." He stuttered and turned away from the camera again as he coughed and clutched his chest.

You slowly look up at the screen. "W-What is it, Alfred? I-I promise, I'll do everything."

"J-Just promise me y-you'll do w-whatever i-it takes to not let the v-virus invade y-your country, (Y/N). A-Asmayor is not o-overpopulated. I-It's a good thing, r-really, u-until this d-damn virus c-came. I-It has killed m-millions of my people, h-how much more i-if it invaded y-your c-country? E-Everyone in your c-country could disappear, a-and worse— you!"

You froze in shock, not able to able to reply.

The virus could kill the whole population but you. But surely there would be survivors, but what if many people won't be lucky enough? Your population could drop, which could take a huge toll on your economy, agriculture, and the like. But what if literally, everyone won't survive?

You'd be worse than ill.

_You could die._

But that won't be possible, right? Surely there'd be at least a few thousands left, or maybe just a few hundreds of them. But it could take many years to get back to your current population. It could even take decades or a century.

Yeah, it'll take that long for you and your country to heal.

Snapping from your train of thoughts, you gave your friend a reassuring smile. "I will, Alfred. I promise you. And I'm doing this not just for my country and wellbeing,"

_"But for you as well."_


End file.
